


Making the Grade

by Issiekay



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-07-04
Packaged: 2018-02-07 10:02:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1894875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Issiekay/pseuds/Issiekay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is Vriska Serket and it’s official, you’re failing history.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Making the Grade

**Author's Note:**

  * For [caalsio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/caalsio/gifts).



> Happy Drone Season, Caalsio!

Your name is Vriska Serket and it’s official, you’re failing history. It isn’t that much of a surprise, after all, you’ve been avoiding the class and then straight out not doing the work. You’re not sure what you expected was going to happen, but you didn’t think you were going to _fail_. Failure is _not_ an option. You need this class to graduate. 

You have no choice but to either try to cut your losses or to figure out how to get extra credit. It’s not like it’ll be hard - you know the teacher pretty well. After all, you’ve been dating his son for the last five months. 

And it’s not like he isn’t attractive. It’s obvious where Eridan got his good looks from and it makes your plan a little bit easier to execute. The idea of fucking a teacher isn’t so bad, but fucking your boyfriend’s dad? That sort of complicates things. Either way, you’re a woman with a plan.

You’re gonna get your grade raised. 

You thumb open one button of your blouse and then another while staring him down. He raises an eyebrow and you watch as his eyes sweep over your chest before he turns back to the whiteboard. It’s impossible to stop the smirk and you lean back in your chair, not bothering to take notes. 

Study hall has never been a good fit for you; most of it is spent doodling in margins, slipping notes in books, or just generally wreaking vindictive havoc in quiet and conniving ways. You consider it a specialty of yours; to be quite honest. You shift in your seat, leaning and bending your legs like a “prim and proper” young woman should sit; of course, this translates into showing off the soft curve of your body.

He glances at you again and you smile a bit wider.

“Mr. Ampora, I’m bored,” you complain to him, drawing out the vowels in his name.

“There’s always your assignments, Miss Serket.”

“Those are worse.”

“Then I’m afraid I’m at a loss as to what you could do in a study hall,” he says in flat exasperation; his tone colored in greys and reds like the pen marks on a rough-draft essay.

You slide from your seat, taking swayed steps to perch on his desk in silence before he can turn. He jolts slightly, levelling a glare at you and crossing his arms. He leaned against the spotless whiteboard he’s been meticulously cleaning since you flicked open your blouse buttons a little while ago.

“Mr. Ampora.”

“Vriska.”

“I have a proposition for you,” you drawl, so like a little devil; a succubus baiting her catch. You lean forward, knowing your exposed skin is drawing his eyes down to it, “I need to pass this class.”

“You do.”

“And I’m willing to do anything.”

“How about your classwork, Miss Serket?”

“I refuse to do anything that doesn’t stimulate me. You mentally congratulate yourself on the clever, though cheap, innuendo. It certainly brought some color to his face.

“Oh, is that so? Then what exactly are you willing to do, Miss Serket?”

You slid from the desk, your smile languid as a predator with its cornered and hissing prey.

“I’m not good with lectures. I’m more of a show-and-tell type.”

You sink down onto your knees, hands flying to undo his pants. He whimpers loudly and pushes your hands away.

“I thought we agreed on this,” you say, sighing. “Just let me do what I do best?”

“Yeah yeah,” he nods, rolling his eyes. “And how old are you again? 

“Shh,” you coo, your fingers quickly undoing the button and pulling the zip down. “I’m legal. Mostly. Close enough, really.” You push them to his ankles and lean in, brushing your cheek against his clothed erection. He makes another little noise, fingers ghosting above your messy curls, barely making contact. You barely suppress a smirk and a biting comment. He must not be used to this and it honestly doesn’t surprise you. Whatever, he can hoverhand all he wants so long as you get at least a C-.

You briefly kiss his tip before peeling the boxers down, immediately licking his exposed cock from base to tip as soon as the fabric is out of the way. You make sure that you’re looking up at him, meeting his eyes. Eye contact is always important in a good blowjob and this isn’t going to just be good, it’s going to be the best one you’ve ever given. It has to be. He’s glancing down at you, eyes half-lidded and his cheeks flushed. You know encouragement when you see it.

When you wrap your lips around his cock he gasps and finally buries his fingers in your tresses and pulls. You feel yourself throb and it catches you off guard. There’s a sharp pang of _want_ in the pit of your stomach and for a second you panic.

You’ve thought about this before - come on, he’s attractive, who could blame you? You _are_ dating his son, after all. Still, he’s a bit too old and yet here you are, on your knees with his cock in your mouth. Then again, it wouldn’t be the first time you did something like this. Focusing back on the task at hand, you begin to bob your head, twisting your hand around the inch or two you aren’t trying to fit in your mouth. He groans and moans out your name, the last syllable stretching into a bit of a whine.

You wonder if he’s ever thought about doing this with a student, or more specifically, you. You like being wanted, it makes you feel sexy and empowered. Perhaps it isn’t the best thing to do, building your self-esteem on desire, but you really don’t give a fuck. Taking a deep breath through your nose, you hold him by his thighs and take him until your lips are pressed against the flat skin of his pelvis. He chokes and tries to pull you off of him, nearly choking _you_ in the process but you stay where you are and swallow around his length. You can feel his thighs tremble and if you weren’t preoccupied, you know you’d be laughing at him for being so pathetic. After a few more minutes of sucking him off, you come up for air. Your jaw feels sore and you open and close your mouth a few times. 

Dymion Ampora looks positively wrecked.

“I, uh, I get it if you don’t want to keep going, this is really nice, shit…” He babbles, unable to meet your eyes. You laugh and he looks confused. “What?”

“You think I’m done, Ampora?”

“No? Maybe?” He runs his hand through his hair, letting out a snort. “I never know with you. You’re a fucking wildcard. I told Eri to dump you months ago, now I know I was right. Kid never listens.”

“No way he’s gonna dump me,” you drawl, undoing the last few buttons of your blouse. Although you’re sure he would love to see your breasts, you’re absolutely positive that you’ve caught him glancing them over before, you decide not to show him. A girl’s gotta have a card up her sleeve, and you just might have to do this again to fully convince him. As it is, his eyes are glued to the slight amount of cleavage you’re showing off. Another laugh almost escapes you but you manage to keep it together. You boost yourself up onto his desk, pushing the various papers off of it. He scoffs.

“Hey, that’s not nice. Didn’t anyone teach you to play well with others?” 

“I’m not nice,” you quickly remind him. A few moments later you’ve slipped out of your panties and pushed your skirt up around your waist. “Come on, don’t you want me?”

“Shut up,” he growls, closing the gap between the two of you. His hand slips into the desk drawer, rummaging around and coming back with a foil packet. It’s the same brand you and Eridan use - this strikes you as a little odd but you pay it no attention. It's quickly rolled down his cock and before you know it, he's resting just at your entrance.

He presses into you and you gasp. He’s not bothering to let you adjust to his size, he begins fucking you right away. It’s incredible - god, he actually knows what he’s doing. With each roll of his hips you’re pushed a bit further back on the desk. He feels so thick and god, you’re moaning out his name before you realize what’s going on. 

His hand comes up to your mouth, stifling the small noises you make but it only does so much. You bite down onto the blade of his calloused hand near his knuckle and just let your teeth sink in with each forceful thrust. Even around his hand you can hear yourself letting out high whimpers and keens and all you want to do is let yourself sob with pleasure.

It’s a few more seconds before you audibly say “fuck it” and begin to rub yourself off. With quick, neat circles around your clit, you start to feel small flutters which quickly snowball into an orgasm. He finishes moments after you, biting down on your shoulder. 

Your chest rises and falls quickly as you try to catch your breath. Dymion merely runs a hand through his hair again, snorting out a laugh. “Thanks, kid.”

“And a deal’s a deal, right?” You ease off of the desk and brush your skirt down, replacing your panties. “So you’re changing the grade?”

He gives you a little wink before he speaks. “Nice try, but I think I’m gonna keep your mark as is.” A chill rushes down your spine and your jaw drops. You just got played. He leans over and gives your ass a firm smack and with that, he ushers you out of the room and you have no fucking clue what to think.

Serves you right.

**Author's Note:**

> welp


End file.
